Life-ning
by TapesAndRecords
Summary: "This is all I've ever wanted from life." ; A short multi-chapter, and mildly AU.
1. Chapter 1

**note:** And greetings to you all. It's been a while, I know. I feel I always say that. Anyway, this is a new little thingy of mine that I really hope you guys are gonna like. Basically, whilst I was on a car journey on Friday my mp4 brought a song up on shuffle, and I was hit by Tony/Ziva feels. Nothing new there. But, a fic idea came along with it. Which was pretty unusual.  
So this is gonna be three or four chapters, I haven't decided yet, it depends on which verses I do or don't include here. This short thing is the first chapter, however, and I wanted to get it up before I forgot as to this thing's existence. So voila, I guess. (Oh, there is some debate regarding the hyphen in the song title; I'm not sure but I like the hyphen, so.)  
Anyway, like I said, I really hope you guys like this. It's gonna be sweet, happy, and have no relation to current context whatsoever. Just Tony, Ziva, and the stuff life throws at 'em. Enjoy.

**disclaimer: **be quiet.

* * *

_"A hand upon my forehead...  
The joke and then the laugh.  
Waking up in your arms;  
A place to call my own..."_

_Life-ning; Snow Patrol._

* * *

When he hears the knock on the door, he moves only because he knows it's her. His head is pounding and he might just be running a temperature, but they've got the day off as it is and he figured a call to her would be wise.

"Hi."  
She says, with a small smile, and he offers a fairly weak grin and a hushed "hey" in return.

He knows she'll shut the door behind her anyway, so he pads barefoot back to his bedroom and slumps beneath the covers. She follows, boots clicking quietly as she walks.

"I am surprised you're not watching a movie on the couch."

He chuckles a little, head shifting on his pillow to look at her. She shrugs off her coat and rolls up the sleeves of her sweater as she walks toward him more.

"Nah. Too tired. Wouldn't pay attention anyway."

He sees her eyebrows raise in the dull light, but she says nothing.

"Move over, Tony."

He wiggles backwards, much to her apparent amusement, and she sits herself by his hip, feet still on the floor as her legs curve round the side of his bed.

"You do not look sick."  
Concern seems to lace her voice, though, contrary to her words, and he sees her frown.

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaustion setting in.  
"Yeah, well, I feel it."

Nimble fingers trace a path up his cheek before her palm rests flat against his forehead. It stays there a while, her thumb sweeping gently up and down, and the soothing motion seems to let the tension flee his body. He relaxes, fully, with a sigh, and his eyes flit up to seek hers.  
There's a deep light burning in her gaze that he's never seen before, and it sends his mind reeling.

He's about to talk when she pulls her hand back, setting it down on her knee. A heavy silence settles over them, dragging out until he looks away.

He clears his throat.  
"So what's the verdict, doc? Will I survive?" Her eyes roll, but a smirk creeps onto her lips.

"You are just a little hotter than normal, Tony."

"Thank you very much, but, only a little?"

His response is automatic and predictable, but it makes her laugh, and she leans forward with a giggle.

"Ziva?"

"Yes?" she asks, her hand resting against his cheek yet again.

"Stay."

Her eyes widen at first, clearly stunned at his words, and his hand covers hers upon his face in a desperate effort to stop her from running. But the contact seems to make up her mind, and a big, wholly genuine smile spreads upon her face. She nods, kicking off her shoes before slipping beneath the sheets, right by his side.

"If you make me sick, too, Tony, I swear…"  
The threat trails off into nothing, and he laughs, sleepy eyes closing at last. He feels a hand slip into his just as exhaustion takes over.

And whilst they may drift off separately, they wake later in each other's arms.  
He wonders vaguely why it feels like he's come home.


	2. Chapter 2

**note: **Hey everyone! I know I said 'soon' in my Christmas fic note, but for those of you new to my writing, this is actually pretty soon for me. I'm so bad at updates I shame myself, to be honest. As a reader, I'm impatient, as a writer, horribly forgetful.  
Forget you? Why no, I didn't, of course not. But this one's been edited more times than I can count, I really wanted the tone and the events and all that jazz to be just as my head had thought. Plus, the holidays came, and that equals lazing around and sleeping for me, so. And it was supposed to be up two hours ago but hey, excuses are just excuses.  
I was never gonna exclude this line as a chapter, but I was never gonna bump up the rating to M, just for this. So I hope you don't mind my compromise; it's still quite a worthy T, I think. Also I cut the verse because I don't think Ireland playing football is within Tony's interests in life. You may disagree.  
And thank you for the follows and favorites and reviews, I'm grateful for each and every one.

**disclaimer:** I think I just ate a moth.

* * *

"_...the birds, and yes, the bees."_

_Life-ning; Snow Patrol._

* * *

He wrings his hands a little nervously as he leans against her desk. The thought's been plaguing him for days now, but it's a Friday night and they've finished early, and all reasons _not_ to ask her are suddenly escaping him.

"Hey, so I was thinking-"

"Ooh, that is dangerous, yes?"

Not quite the start he'd been hoping for, he'll admit. He'd be more outraged, even, were it not for the laugh that bubbles from her lips, or the way her head throws back in amusement, or the grin spread out on her face. Somehow, that makes her comment not even seem to matter.

He forces his nerves away as he replies.  
"Let me finish, David. I _actually_ wanna thank you, for the other night."

She looks away suddenly, blushing ever so slightly.  
"It was not a problem. You were sick, I was just helping out."

"You didn't have to stay."  
His voice comes out hushed, more so than intended, and her eyes snap back to his at the words.

"No. I did not."

A crooked grin sliding onto his lips, he continues.  
"So, dinner cooked by yours truly and a movie at Casa de DiNozzo?"

She looks a little stunned, but smiles, in that little quiet way only she does.  
"Thank you. That would... be nice."

He slings his bag over his shoulder and waits for her to gather her things. Maybe this'll turn out alright.

* * *

It's only when it passes ten that he realizes their situation. Dinner went down a storm and the movie's rolling, but more importantly, they're sitting on the couch and she's curled up into his side. Her fingers are toying with his shirt absent-mindedly, and his own hand traces lines over her shoulder. They're practically wrapped up in each other, and he can't get enough. A warm, welcome feeling spreads through him, and he shifts his arm to get her attention.

"...Ziva?"

"Yeah?" she answers, eyes still glued to the screen.

"No, _Ziva_."

He pushes her off him, gently, hands resting on her shoulders. She looks at him, all warmth and affection, and whatever words he was about to say die on his tongue.

Instead, he watches as her eyes flit down, glancing at his lips, and she's so close he can feel her breath against his skin. They're so near, he could almost-  
He doesn't get to finish his thoughts before she's moved in, mouth pressed to his.

He groans, arms crushing her close as their lips move against each other and his control falls within seconds. She presses into him, pushing him back against the couch as their tongues collide. The sensation is heady and all-consuming and it makes his head spin. Dizzy and breathless and completely turned on, he pulls back. She still clutches at him.

"Tony," she gasps, right into his ear, and his breath comes shorter even still.

His lips drag over her neck and stay by her ear, tasting and sucking and kissing, and her fingers clutch at his shirt like a lifeline as he moves. She pants against him, quiet little noises sounding with each heave of her chest.

"You want this, right?" he asks even as his hands sink beneath her sweater and roam the vast expanse of her back. He's filled with need and want and love and stopping now might just kill him.

"Oh, _yes_."

He groans yet again at her husky tone, and tears at the thick fabric, pulling it off and over her head. His hands run down her sides and goose bumps follow in their wake.  
Her breath hitches. It's a sound he loves already, far too much.

* * *

He's never been one for snuggling after sex.  
It's varied over time, naturally, but sticky skin and awkward, tangled legs often make such a thing more difficult than it really should be, he's found. As well as that, catching your breath with a hot naked person draped over you can be quite a task. But now, with Ziva, being cuddled up beneath the sheets seems only natural. No matter the sheen to their skin or the mess of limbs they're currently in, he's perfectly fine to just hold her as she sleeps.

She dozed off a few minutes ago, with her arm wrapped round his waist and her face resting on his chest, and the steady rise and fall of her against him is a comfort of sorts. He can't blame her for being tired, their many rounds were rather strenuous and it's well into the early hours by now, he's sure.  
She's a peaceful sleeper, he's recently discovered, and the small smile spread on her lips assures him that her dreams are sweet indeed. The occasional snuffle sounds from her, too, and though not quite a snore, they make him grin all the same.

And it's then, after all that observation and all that reflection, with sheets crumpled round them and skin damp and sticky, that realization dawns. He is, content.  
And it's a wonderful feeling indeed.

* * *

_The moth is back. This means war._  
_But, uh, if you liked it, feel free to leave a quick review!_


	3. Chapter 3

**note: **Greetings everyone. This really should've been up yesterday but I spent too long watching videos to have enough time to edit this. So now I'm posting it instead of finishing off an essay, naturally.  
This'll either be the penultimate chapter, or the next one will be that, I haven't decided yet. Definitely one more to go, at least. Just thought you guys might wanna know where this stands.  
Anyways, this is a fluff fest. But always what I had in mind when I saw this verse of the song. I hope you guys like it. And, if you haven't searched for the song on YouTube yet, do. S'good. Thanks, as ever, for the reviews et al, you're all so lovely. Anyway, enjoy.

**disclaimer: **don't look at me

* * *

_"Words of reassurance,  
But only if they're true.  
Just some simple kindness,  
No vengeance from the gods,"_

_Life-ning; Snow Patrol_

* * *

"Honey, I'm home."  
He calls out to her, only partly joking, as soon as he opens the door. He knows she's there- her car's in the drive and it's her apartment, after all- but he's not quite expecting her to poke her head round the kitchen door and then walk straight toward him.

Her arms wrap round him as she pulls him close in a tight hug, a little unlike her, and her grip hardly loosens when she pulls back to kiss his lips briefly before murmuring in his ear.  
"I missed you."

He grins, squeezing her a little tighter.  
"I missed you too, Ziva."

She steps away, headed back toward the kitchen, and it's then that he notices the smell lingering in the air.

"You cooking?" he asks as he hangs his coat up on the rail by the door. His shoes follow, sitting next to hers. Though he can't lie, the domesticity scares him a little, it brings with it a certain comfort. Like this actually_ is_ home, and not just his partner's apartment.

"I thought I would make you something, in honor of your safe return."  
Her voice is muffled somewhat through the half-open door but he can hear the smile in her tone. He heads to the kitchen, socked feet making light noises as he walks. His fingers brush against the wood and push the door forward.

"Ziva, I was picking up a witness. In Illinois. It wasn't a life-threatening mission."

She turns from her place at the stove, a shy grin upon her lips.  
"Anything could have happened!"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. It has also been… two months. Since we… And it coincided with your coming back and I thought I could do something special. I- I can stop, if you would prefer Chinese-"

"Hey, this is _perfect_, thank you."  
He slides his arms round her waist, pressing up against her back, and brushes his lips by her ear.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

Her cheeks flush a little pink but he sees her deliberate focus on stirring onions in a pan for what it is- an attempt to stop the blush spreading. With a kiss to her jaw, he steps away.

"What can I do to help?"

* * *

"I really did miss you, y'know."

She stops midway through a spin of her fork and lets the spaghetti slip back to the bowl rather ungracefully.  
"I know." she says, after a while.

He sets his wine glass down and eyes her, unsure whether or not to continue. She's stopped, though, ready to listen, and he clears his throat.  
"I mean, I called you and stuff, but it wasn't the same," he pauses again, nervous. "You still weren't… there, with me, an- and like you said earlier, it's been two months. I think I've gotten used to you being with me."

There's a mild frown on her face as she looks at him, apparently perplexed.

"I could hardly sleep without you, Ziva."

Her eyes widen, and he sends her a crooked, mildly apologetic, grin.  
"It was only a couple nights, but I just ended up lying there, and… kinda wishing you were with me."

He watches as she pushes her chair back and stands, walking toward him with a sense of purpose similar to that of when he walked in the door earlier. He stands up himself without noticing it.  
She kisses him, slow and lengthy and with her hands clutching his shirt collar, as his arms wind their way round her waist and hold her there. It's not a rushed or heated embrace, but his heart pounds for an altogether different reason.

He rests his forehead against hers when they pull back, breathing heavy. When he speaks, his voice cracks a little.  
"I love you."

She smiles, and raises her head to catch his lips again, chastely.  
"I love you too."

They've never said the words before, but they don't feel foreign to his ears, and he holds her close to relish the moment.

"I think dinner's getting cold." he whispers, hushed, into her ear.

She tells him she doesn't care, and he believes her.

* * *

His arms find her the moment they curl up in bed together that night. She rests her head on his chest and traces shapes on his hip as she hums lightly.

"I could not sleep well without you, either, actually."

Her confession is sudden and takes him quite by surprise, but he doesn't let go.  
"Really?"

"Yes. I got a few hours each night, I suppose, but it was not the same. I realised that this," she pushes her fingers lightly into his side, and ignores his subsequent squeal, "is what I am used to. And that it is what I want."

He pauses, fingers curled in her hair.  
"D'you think we should move in together?"

She tenses, his question apparently as sudden as her earlier words, but soon relaxes, and moves into his embrace a little more.  
"I'd like that."

He smiles down at the top of her head and presses a kiss to her hair.

"Goodnight, Tony."

"G'night, Ziva."

Sometimes he's scared by just how simple things can be when it comes to her.

He shifts a little on the mattress, adjusts his head on his pillow, and shuts his eyes.  
He's out like a light.

* * *

_Reviews are always appreciated._


	4. Chapter 4

**note: **Sorry for the delay on this. It was ready to go at the start of the week but I couldn't seem to find the right time to post it, so. But I'm here now! With what I am sorry to announce is the final chapter of this thing. I was toying with the idea of a fifth but this seemed a nice place to end it. A random note, Tony has glasses here because I like Michael in glasses and I know he uses them for reading so I figured I could use a little artistic license and give Tony them too...  
Uhm, this one's been nice, guys, and thanks so much for your support and reviews and alerts and messages about it, each and every one is appreciated- you guys are awesome.  
So, I only hope that you enjoy this last chaper, and if you did, please leave a review at the end!

**disclaimer: **Done.

* * *

"_To share what I've been given  
Some kids eventually..."_

_Life-ning; Snow Patrol._

* * *

Her words send a cold shiver down his spine. Be it from experience or just cliché, he can't say, but he knows good rarely ever follows "We need to talk."

"Okay."  
He aims for confidence but her tone is so serious it's shaken him, and his voice wavers a little. He sits on the couch with his elbows on his knees and his fingers locked together; she sits on the coffee table, facing him. He wrings his hands without even knowing why.

She clears her throat.  
"These past few mornings I have been feeling a little... worse for wear. It's been nothing I can't handle, yet, but it kept happening, so I started to wonder what it might be."

He nods. It seems to be all he can do.

"And I remembered that you had said how tired I have been lately so I put the things together, and I took a test, and... we're having a baby, Tony."

All breath seems to leave him at once.  
"Oh, thank God."

"I'm sorry?"  
He looks up from the floor to see her frowning, eyebrows furrowed, and can't help but laugh as realisation sets in.

"I thought you were dying, or- or breaking up with me or something,"

She laughs too and he grins, mesmerized just by the sight of her. So he stands, pulling her up and to him, and judging by her yelp, he takes her by surprise. His arms slip round her and he kisses her, fiercely, wondering quite why he feels like crying and laughing and screaming all at the same time. When they part he reminds her he loves her, and she presses her face into his shoulder with a smile.

* * *

"It's kinda weird, huh?"

"_You_ think it's weird? It is _part_ of me."

He lightly presses his finger against her stomach again, squirming a little at the feel.  
"But I think I like it."

"It's your child, you had better."

He raises an eyebrow at her, but the amused look she sends him assures him she's just joking. If in a very convincing manner.

Her skin is taut and raised and rounded, but only noticeably so this morning. She realised whilst getting dressed and a half hour later he's still staring at it. His feet are dangling over the side of the bed as he lies on his front and his hand rests against the little bump, but it feels like they're in their own little bubble. Just the three of them, huddled up in their bedroom and contemplating the future. They talk in quiet voice and his thumb moves up and down every so often. It makes goosebumps rise up in its wake.

"Of course I will do. And you know that."

Propping himself up on his elbows, he inches forward to brush his lips over Ziva's stomach. She runs a hand through his hair and he rolls to the side to rest his head against her torso, looking down at the rise of skin.

"You are crushing me, Tony." she says, after a few minutes.

"I'm having a moment with our kid, Ziva, I'm afraid it'll have to wait." he teases.

Her breath hitches, though, and it's then that his words sink in for himself. His kid, their kid, is growing inside Ziva, visible right before his eyes. A tiny little boy or girl, nestled up, and becoming human, and it's a mixture of _them_. And he's seeing evidence of that for the very first time, the tiny little swell of her stomach is _right there_ and it's leaving him breathless.

"Oh my God."

He sits up straight and veers toward Ziva, kissing her with a force unexpected even to him. She gives him the same back and clutches at him desperately and he honestly can't believe any of this is happening right now. That he's happy and in love and is going to be a father and has everything he could possibly want in the world, here in his hands.  
It's an incredible feeling.

* * *

The thud of the book falling to the floor is what wakes him. It makes him jump and his eyes fly open before he realises the threat wasn't a threat at all, but simply another parenting guide he's fallen asleep reading. They're all lengthy words and over-description and despite the knowledge he gains they have an uncanny ability of sending him straight to sleep.

He pulls off his glasses and throws them lazily onto the coffee table, then runs a hand over his face with a groan. A look to the clock tells him it's nearing 3am.

"Tony?"

He turns to see Ziva, standing in the bedroom doorway. Her eyes are half-shut and her hair's mussed and messy and her stomach protrudes at a size that reminds him just how close their son or daughter is to arriving.

"Hey. I, uh, I couldn't sleep. And then I could."

She smiles sleepily and rubs a hand over her belly in circles, something she's done often these past few months. He heads over to her.

"The munchkin woke up too, huh?"

"Yes. I blame you for that."

He scoffs and fakes offense but grins, then brushes his fingers against her stomach along with her. Their child is very energetic of late; he's convinced they've got a future footballer or dancer on their hands.  
"Keeps moving?"

"Yes. And it is extremely uncomfortable."

They're words he's heard a lot recently.  
"Y'know, I might've heard that somewhere. But hopefully it won't be too long now."

She's due in three days time and each night builds more and more anticipation. He's had so long talking to this child and knowing them, without actually seeing them, or holding them, and his hands are itching as more time passes.

"Come back to bed, Tony."

He sighs, tired, and links his fingers through hers and follows her back through to their bed.

* * *

She calls his name, voice calm, and he pokes his head round the door to see her standing in the bathroom, a towel wrapped round her as best it can. Her knuckles are white as she clutches at the fabric, and she's breathing in deep steady streams, and he knows what she's going to say before she says it.

"My water just broke."

His head spins and his hands tremble but he reminds himself that he has to breathe in order to meet their child, and the dizziness subsides.  
He moves, suddenly. He gets some clothes and helps her dress and reminds her to breathe through the pain, despite the fact that she's currently calmer than he is. Then they grab their things and he pulls on a coat, and scoops up their pre-prepared bag at the last second and drives her to the hospital at a reasonably controlled speed. But time is racing and he can feel blood rushing in his temples as the minutes pass.

Their pace slows only as they walk in, and it's then that it hits him; it's _happening_.

* * *

They have a little girl. He's captivated the second he holds her.


End file.
